Upwards a Downward Spiral
by Bratling
Summary: This is my shipperish-take on what could have happened after Last Knight.
1. Aftermath

Upwards A Downward Spiral

A post-Last Knight fic

By Shadowstar, brightfeather1.geo@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-PG-13. Rating may be subject to change.

I'm not a member of *any* faction, but hey! I can be recruited. ;) These characters do not belong to me and I do not hold the rights to them. This first foray into Forever Knight fanfiction can be attributed to sleep deprivation, PEZ, chocolate, and Pixie Sticks. ;) 

I blame NiteMar because she introduced me to Forever Knight fanfic (and she beta read this, too!) My thanks to Stacy for taking over beta reading. Archive? Sure, whatever, wherever ;) FTP archive, both FKfanfic archives and Jadfe if it becomes necessary. g

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Chapter 1

Aftermath

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LaCroix turned the stake in his hand and hesitated as he watched Nicholas bend over his mortal love, offering his back to his sire. His expression hardened as he brought the stake down on his son's head and then drove the point through Nicholas' shoulder. Nicholas fell over on top of Natalie and lay still. 

"S'excuse, Nicolas," he murmured over his son's unconscious form. "Mais, comment j'abîme tu, mon fils, ma création?"* He picked up Nicholas and placed him on the couch; careful not to jostle the stake embedded in his shoulder. 

He gathered Natalie up in his arms. He had been hearing faint heartbeats for some time; he knew that if she died, he would truly lose his son forever. He took off and flew out the skylight towards the nearest hospital. The good doctor would survive if he had to finish bringing her across himself. He knew that Nick would most likely be furious if that happened, but he would forgive him… in a century or two. 

It would not be ideal for him to do so--if the good doctor were a vampire, then her search for a "cure" would continue forever. At least if she remained mortal, in fifty or sixty years, her search would stop, because she would be dead. Nicholas' flirtation with mortality would cease--eventually. Sooner or later, he would have his son back by his side. After all, they had all the time in the world.

LaCroix landed outside in the shadows outside of the Emergency Room, carried the unconscious woman inside and laid her on a gurney. He grabbed the nearest doctor, caught his heartbeat, and forced the man to look into his eyes. "You *will* care for this woman," he murmured, his voice strangely compelling. "You will make sure that she survives," he said. "She needs transfusions, and you will give them to her." He released the man and left quickly, intent on getting Nicholas to safety before he regained consciousness and hurt himself. 

The doctor shook his head as if to clear it and looked at Natalie. "We've got a severe case of exsanguination," he called. "She needs blood and lots of it, stat! Get her started with a unit of O-, *now*." He rubbed his forehead absently. Fuzzy memories of a tall man dressed in black who had accosted him and ordered him to do… something. Without conscious thought, he dismissed it from his mind and concentrated on his new patient. With time and care, there was a great possibility that she could recover.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

LaCroix flew to the loft, retrieved Nicholas, and hurried back to his rooms over the Raven. Carefully, he laid his son face down in Nicholas' rarely-used bedroom and pulled out the titanium chains he kept for such occasions. His son would not have the chance to destroy himself; he would not allow Nicholas to walk into the sun. He undressed his son, pulled the stake out of his shoulder, and gently redressed him in a pair of silk pajamas. He attached the chains to the titanium loops in the wall before he cuffed his son's wrists and ankles with the manacles on the ends of the chains.

The loops in the walls were, in turn, attached to a titanium support structure that was embedded in the bedrock below The Raven. His Nicholas would not be stupidly committing suicide any time in the near future. He lifted Nicholas once more, slid his still unconscious form in between the sheets of the bed and pulled the blankets up around him. LaCroix pushed a stray curl away from his son's face and sighed.

"Mon fils, je n'ai pas permettre tu a mouri. Nicolas, tu a mon possession, tu a *mon*."** LaCroix left the room abruptly, and gathered several bottles of blood from his refrigerator. 

He put them on the nightstand next to the bed in Nicholas' room and gathered his son close to him. Softly, he began caressing his son's hair before tipping Nicholas' head back and ripping his own wrist open. He pressed the bleeding limb to his son's mouth. "Bois, ma Nicolas, *bois.*"*** 

He smiled as he felt his son begin to suck weakly at his wrist and pull the life-giving essence into himself. "That's it, mon fils," he crooned softly before he resumed stroking his son's blond curls. Images of the past few hours flowed through their link.

Nick opened his eyes and pushed LaCroix's wrist away roughly. "Why didn't you kill me?" he asked, anguish written on his face. "I killed her--I deserve to *die*, and I want to *join* her."

"My foolish Nicholas; do you really think that I would let you go so easily? You are *mine* and I do not relinquish my possessions easily." He reached for a bottle and handed it to his son. "Drink, Nicholas and regain your strength."

Nick took the bottle, his chains rattling at the motion, and hurled it at the wall. It shattered upon impact and its contents ran down the surface. LaCroix raised a single eyebrow and regarded him with amusement. "Tantrums, Nicholas? My, how we have… regressed." He got up and tugged the bedclothes up around his son. "Rest and heal," he said quietly, starting towards the door.

Nick yanked on his chains halfheartedly attempting to break free. "Don't you get it, LaCroix? I don't *want* to heal. I *want* to be with Natalie--I *promised*."

LaCroix paused at the door and glanced back at Nicholas; pity flitted over his features. "Your mortal pet… lives," he said quietly. 

"Take me to her," Nick demanded. "I want to see her!"

"And are you sure she wants to see you?" LaCroix inquired silkily. "You almost killed her; I doubt that draining her was what she wanted when she asked you to make love to her."

Nicholas scowled and crossed his arms and the chains rattled quietly under the blankets. "Let me see her," he demanded.

"Rest, Nicholas," LaCroix said, his tone brooking no argument. "It is too close to sunrise. I *will* *not* have you fry yourself over a mere *mortal*. Behave, and I will take you to her… tomorrow," he vowed as his eyes flashed, daring Nicholas to try and disobey him. "You should have brought her across," he chided gently.

"I couldn't condemn her to this existence," Nick mumbled.

LaCroix lifted an eyebrow. "And what she may now have will be better?" he inquired tauntingly. "She may become a hunter… or something else, and coming across would have been *her* choice," he pointed out. "*You* chose to come back, yet, you took that choice from her. *Rest* Nicholas. I grow weary of this argument. Feed and go to *sleep*." He turned, and left Nicholas to his own thoughts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Natalie opened her eyes to the bright lights of the hospital and moaned softly. She turned her head to find LaCroix sitting next to her bed. She shrank back from him, remembering some of the things that Nick had said about him. At the same time, a fuzzy memory of a certain Valentine's Day flashed in her head. He was dangerous--especially to her, but at the same time, he was the only one at her bedside. "What happened?" she croaked, wanting, needing to know.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Doctor," he said, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

"What happened?" she whispered again.

"You don't remember?" he said, raising one eyebrow.

"No," she answered.

LaCroix leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Doctor, you should *never* ask a vampire who's been starving himself for over a century to make love to you if you wish to survive the experience," he said, as a large smile spread over his face. "You haven't--quite--been brought across, if that's what you mean."

"Does that make me a… hunter?" she asked.

LaCroix shook his head regretfully. "I'm afraid not; if you were a hunter, it would be my pleasure to destroy you, but you're not. You, my dear doctor, are something I have never seen before, neither hunter, nor fully mortal or fully vampire. I shall have to consult the Elders as to what you have become. Irregardless, you are now Family and thus I am responsible for you since Nicholas is… incapacitated." 

"Is he hurt?" she asked anxiously.

LaCroix caught her eyes, focused on her heartbeat, and forced open the tenuous link between them to its fullest. "Sleep," he whispered, his voice compelling. "Sleep, my… granddaughter." Natalie's eyes drifted shut and she emitted a slight snore. He pushed some of her hair back from her face. "It seems that my bargain with Nicholas is now null and void," he said with a sigh. 

LaCroix leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "I always knew what my Nicholas saw in you," he told the sleeping woman. "Perhaps I should have brought you fully across so that you will be part of us forever, but I couldn't bear to have my son hate me for it--he hates me enough already." He grimaced, shook his head, and left the room to tell the mortal physicians that the good doctor had awakened.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nick tugged restlessly at his chains, renewing his futile attempt to break free. His internal clock told him that the sun would soon fall, and then he would be able to see Natalie--if she could forgive him for almost killing her. He rubbed his arm across his face as guilt washed over him. If she became a dhampir, her life would be forfeit, and yet another person would have been sacrificed to feed his beast.

"Please," he whispered. "Not Natalie--*please*, not her." A pink-tinged tear rolled slowly down his face as he thought of her dead because he couldn't control the beast. If only he'd refused her, if only he hadn't been so selfish! Nick looked up as LaCroix entered the room. He held his chained hands out in front of him. "I won't walk into the sun," he promised softly.

LaCroix nodded curtly and dropped a pile of clean clothing on the bed before unlocking the handcuffs. "Wash and dress," he ordered. "I contacted the Council, and they wish to see us both about Natalie--this will determine if she will be allowed to live."

"And if they decide she must die?" Nick asked, his voice cracking on the last word.

"Then I will make sure you have a chance to bid her farewell," LaCroix crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his son. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Nick sighed, gathered up the fresh clothes, and headed towards the shower. "I'm sorry, my son, but it must be this way--the Council will see us before anything else." LaCroix whispered before leaving the room to complete his own toilette. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two hours later they stood in a large, musty house facing the Council. Dust lay everywhere as a testament to how long it had been since the building was in use. Old fashioned radiators stood along the walls and the plaster medallions that adorned the ceiling were obscured by years of dust, dirt, and cobwebs. The paintings that surrounded the medallions were similarly covered in layers of grime while other pieces of art hanging around the room were mired in a sticky film of the dust of years. 

The majority of the furniture was swathed in dustcloths, on which stood five inches of dust. The only exceptions were the brocade and velvet-covered chairs that ensconced three of the members of the Council. A large, ornately-carved mahogany table stood in front of the council. It, too, was dusty, and the whole building had a general air of disuse.

"Nicholas de Brabant." The slender, auburn-haired woman at one end of the table began in a lilting voice. "Your sire has contacted us about a mess you left last night, and that it concerns Dr. Lambert."

Nicholas bowed low at the sound of his name. "Yes, Madam." Guilt sufficed his features. "She asked me to make love to her and I--took too much."

"Does the doctor yet live?" the man next to her asked.

LaCroix inclined his head. "Yes, she does, Iolus," he confirmed. "She is recovering, but she is no longer… mortal. Neither is she a vampire, nor a hunter. In 2000 years, I have never seen anything like what she has become."

The other woman spoke up. "de Brabant," she said in a low, musical voice, "I am known as Diana, and I must know--was she completely willing, and was she willing to be brought across if you failed?"

"I couldn't do it," Nick said softly. 

"*Couldn't*, de Brabant?" Iolus questioned.

"You took her blood, de Brabant," Diana reminded him. "What did *she* want?"

"*Nicholas*," LaCroix growled warningly.

Nick closed his eyes and swallowed. "Me," he whispered. "She wanted *me*, and if she had to be brought across, she was willing."

The other woman spoke up. "Does she love the man or the vampire?" she asked.

Nick closed his eyes. "Both," he answered softly. 

"Ah," she said, nodding wisely, as if that meant something.

"You, Nicholas, have created something we have not seen in over a thousand years--a creature so rare that it is barely mentioned in our Chronicles." Diana said.

"And what precisely is that, Diana?" LaCroix asked silkily.

"The mention of them in the Chronicles is brief," she said. "We don't have a name for her--she is caught in between. She cannot cross fully over, but she's no longer mortal either."

"What do you mean?" Nick demanded. "LaCroix said that she still lives."

"She does," Iolus answered. "Her heart still beats, her skin is still warm, but she will not age, nor die--with proper treatment."

"Her senses will be enhanced, and she will crave blood--but only yours, de Brabant," the unidentified woman said.

"She will only have vestigial fangs," Diana added. "And she is *your* responsibility--*you* created her, and she will die without your blood, though your sire's might do in an emergency. If she dies from your mistreatment, we shall be very… displeased. This Natalie Lambert is unique, and we wish her to see how things develop. In two or three centuries, something might change."

"You *will* take care of her." Iolus growled. "You have one week before she starts to sicken and we become angry for your disobedience."

Nicholas bowed. "Will she--will sunlight destroy her?" he asked hesitantly.

"We don't know," the auburn-haired woman answered. "*Go* de Brabant. If you fail, even your sire cannot protect you."

Nick bowed again and left the dusty room. LaCroix inclined his head to the Elders before following his son outside. "Come, Nicholas. We must go to your Natalie--she needs you."

"What of the bargain, LaCroix?" Nick said.

LaCroix sighed. "You are becoming tiresome, Nicholas. The bargain does not pertain to… Family. Come." He took off, heading in the direction of the hospital.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Translations:

*"Forgive me, Nicholas, but how could I destroy you, my son, my creation?"

**"My son, I could not allow you to die. You are my possession, you are *mine*."

***"Drink, Nicholas, *drink*."

TBC..


	2. Resuscitation

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Chapter 2:

Resuscitation

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Natalie's eyes opened as she felt a familiar presence approach. She licked her lips as she smelled something alluring. The scent was unlike anything she had smelled before. It smelled like hazelnuts mixed with freshly turned earth and ripened wheat with a hint of something… sweeter all mixed together. In short, it smelled… delicious.

Natalie looked up as Nick entered the room and licked her lips. *He* was the source of the appetizing smell. "Nick," she growled softly as her eyes became tinted a pale gold. 

Nick hurried to her side, sat down on the bed, and offered her his wrist as he used the other hand to stroke her hair. "I'm sorry, Nat," he murmured as her small, new fangs extended and she sank them into his wrist. 

Within seconds, she was pulling life-sustaining blood into herself. It satisfied her in a way that the hospital food had not, fulfilling a need that she had been unable to vocalize. She closed her eyes in ecstasy, tasting all that was Nick. His memories flowed through her, laced with his love. She saw his mortal home, his original family, his boyhood. Before she could see more, his wrist was gently removed from her grasp.

His wrist sealed quickly, healing the damage her new fangs had inflicted without a sign of it ever having been there. "That's enough, Nat," he crooned softly. "I don't want to collapse from blood loss and then have to explain my slow heart rate if the staff gets too close."

Natalie's eyes flashed dark gold and she growled softly before settling against him. "What was that, Nick?" she asked, slightly revolted, yet intrigued by what had just happened. The implications of what she had done hit her. She had drunk blood--but not just *any* blood, *Nick's* blood. And she had *enjoyed* it. Natalie shivered slightly and burrowed closer to him.

"You've… changed, Nat," Nick said as he kissed her on the forehead gently. "You're something different, and you need my blood to survive. You *needed* it." 

He started to stand, but stopped as Natalie grabbed his shirt. "Don't leave me again," she begged. "You *promised*, Nick. You *promised* that we'd be together--that you'd bring me across if we failed. We'd have *forever*. Why am I this… freak? I'm not human, I'm not a vampire, but LaCroix said that I'm not a hunter, either. What the *hell* am I?"

"I… don't know, Nat," he offered hesitantly. "And as long as I'm here, we *will* have forever. I don't know how or why it happened, but you won't age, you won't die, and I'm afraid that you're stuck with me." Nick looked down, ashamed of what he had done to her.

Natalie wrapped one arm around him. "Then we can be… together?" she asked, hope on her face. She was still a little bit mad at him, but she loved him--and if they could finally be together, then it was worth it.

"I--think so," he said softly. "I'm not sure, Nat, but I need you as much as you need me. *You* are the first to understand me for centuries." Nick put his arms around her and hugged her to him tightly, burying his face in her hair. "I love you," he whispered.

"Don't you *dare* leave me again, Nicholas de Brabant Knight," Nat said, burying her face in his shirt. "I swear I'll track you down--I love you, and I don't *ever* want to be without you." She looked up at him with tears held back in her eyes.

Nick leaned down and cupped her cheek in his palm. "I won't," he promised before he leaned down to capture her lips with his. His kiss was tentative, as if he were afraid that, after everything, she would reject him. Slowly, their lips separated and Natalie leaned against him, content to have his arms around her without the fear that he would pull away. Nick began to pepper small kisses all over her face before he leaned down to kiss her again.

LaCroix walked in the room, followed by Natalie's doctor. "Nicholas," he began, "I have arranged for the good doctor to be released into your care." He glanced at Natalie and frowned. "The movers will bring her possessions to your loft tomorrow."

Natalie glared at LaCroix as the doctor began to speak. As much as she'd like to tell him off for his high-handed ways, she couldn't do it properly without letting loose a secret that outsiders could not share.

"Dr. Lambert," the doctor said, stepping forward. "I want you to take it easy, and you should be in for physical therapy starting tomorrow. Frankly, it's amazing that you're alive at all, not to mention the remarkable condition that you're in. I want you to rest, absolutely no strenuous activity, and especially *no* crime scenes." She handed her a folded sheet of paper before continuing. 

"That should be easy," Natalie muttered, "since I've resigned."

"I want to see you in my office next week, but otherwise, you're free to leave," she finished. 

Natalie murmured her thanks before turning her attention back to LaCroix. Noticing her apparent dismissal, the doctor left the room. She had other patients to see, after all. 

"Why the shift in attitude, LaCroix?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "I *do* remember what happened at Azure."

"Because, my dear doctor, *my* Nicholas now has a vested interest in your well-being. Or did he fail to mention that?" LaCroix asked silkily. "You die, he dies; the Council and the Enforcers will see to that. I refuse to lose my possession because of you, doctor." He said. A small smile stole over LaCroix's face. "And you, too, now belong to *me* through Nicholas. *You* are part of *my* family, and that means that you are also my possession. I do *not* give up what is *mine*."

Nat glowered at LaCroix from the safety of Nick's arms. "I don't belong to *anyone*, LaCroix."

"No? My good doctor, *your* survival is dependent on Nicholas'. *You* now need his blood to live. If you die, the council kills him. And since *he* belongs to me, why--so do you." A slow, evil grin spread over his face. "The Council said that *my* blood will do in a pinch--like father, like son, I suppose. Perhaps my son could be induced to… share."

Nat buried her face in Nick's chest. "You touch her, LaCroix, I swear--" Nick began.

"It would be better for *you* if you remembered who I *am*, Nicholas," LaCroix growled dangerously, hints of gold dancing in his eyes. "You *will* be at the loft within a few hours. She *must* be instructed on the code, and I will arrange some of your *proper* food to be delivered."

"No! I *won't* drink human blood," Nick said stubbornly.

"Oh, *yes* you *will*, mon fils. *You* may be able to subsist on that swill you drink, but she may get sick because of your *diet*. If you do not return to your natural food, she will *not* get what she needs from your blood. You *will* return to human blood, and I will see you *both* at the loft." With that as a parting shot, LaCroix left the room.

Nat shivered slightly and cuddled closer to Nicholas. Nick stroked her hair absently. "I'm sorry, Nat." he said. "I don't want anything to happen to you," he whispered. "There goes our search for a cure."

"No, Nick--there's nothing to be sorry for, and it isn't the end." She looked up at him and smiled. "We have forever, remember? If we can find a cure for you, then we can find a cure for me, too. And *when* we find it in fifty or sixty years, then we'll have the life in the sun together that we both want."

"But I'll have to drink human blood," he reminded her gently. "No more cow, no more protein shakes--if I'm not drinking the right kind of blood, then *you* could get sick because you won't be getting the nourishment that you need."

"Then we'll find another answer," Natalie said, hugging him tightly. 

Nick leaned in to kiss her once more just as a nurse came in, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. "Dr. Lambert," she began. "We're releasing you, so if your friend will wait outside a few minutes, we'll get you dressed and then he can take you home."

Nick leaned in and kissed her softly before standing up. "I'll be right outside," he promised before heading toward the door.

Nat sighed, pushed herself off the bed, and began to dress. Home--with Nick. Now *that* sounded like an interesting idea. It was too bad that the doctor had outlawed any… strenuous… activity. Finally, Nick could make love to her fully without worrying about killing her and they had to wait. Murphy's Law, she reminded herself as she stopped to catch her breath. Slowly, she pulled her clothes on and lowered herself into the wheelchair. At least now, they could be together without fear of reprisals.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Daniel stared at the fire engine and spun one of the wheels idly. He'd had the toy for as long as he could remember; he remembered the giver as he remembered his first days as a vampire. He had kept it close to him ever since as a symbol of his change. It had been fifty-three years of being trapped in the body of a twelve-year old. Fifty-three years of never ending childhood.

Once upon a time, he had envied Peter Pan, but not anymore. He had become one of the Lost Boys and was tired of it. He wanted to grow up. Bitterly, he wished that Lucinda had let him die long ago, and that he had never met LaCroix and Nicky. His princess hadn't deserted him--she had simply been forced into leaving by their master. He knew that if she knew that he was still alive, she would look for him. Unfortunately, she probably believed him to be dead, so Lucinda was the one who took care of him. 

Lucinda and LaCroix had been lovers, once. He had seen it the last time her blood had healed him after he cut it too close. He wasn't sure that he understood it, but he had seen them together in her memories. He supposed that he should be grateful to her for taking him in; after all, he wasn't really her responsibility, but he wasn't at all thankful. By all rights, he should still be with his master, his sire--LaCroix.

He hated Lucinda. He hated how she treated him, and it was all LaCroix's and Nicky's fault. He threw the fire engine across the room and smiled as it hit the wall. "Take that, Nicky," he growled. His head shot up as he felt the presence of the two people that he hated most in the world enter the house.

Curious as to why they would come to see the Council, Daniel stood and crept silently to the back entrance of the room where they would be sure to meet. He lurked in the background, listening to the ruling of the Elders. He smiled as he heard the ruling and then slipped downstairs. Lucinda would be in to check on him soon; she didn't like him wandering around strange cities by himself, and he had never been to Toronto.

Daniel hurried back toward the room he was to occupy for the week they'd be in town and looked around. It was disgusting. Lucinda had put him in the old nursery of the house just as always. He pulled the dust cover off the bed and sat down on it with a grimace of distaste. It was unfortunate that the cleaning service couldn't arrive until the next day, so they had to live in filth for one night. He didn't mind messes, but the dust that covered everything was gross. Daniel laid his head on his knees and let himself dream of playing in the sun the way he had during his mortal life, before the war, so long ago. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

LaCroix stood in his office and examined the roll of paper before him. It was closed with the seal of the council, and he thought he knew what it might contain. Idly, he ran his finger over the seal, trying to decide if he should open it right away. With a decisive tug, he broke the seal and began to glance through the papers.

Surprise swept over him as he read the cover letter. Contained in the roll of paper was all the known information on the doctor's condition. Information from the archives was *not* usually dispersed so readily. After all, the archives were a written record of their kind--proof of their existence. He read over the missive once more, knowing that the records must be either hidden or burned once the information was committed to memory.

A slight smile passed over his lips as he noticed the signature at the bottom. Lucinda. They had been lovers on and off for over a thousand years, and she had never been one to allow him to operate on partial information. LaCroix tucked the papers into a folder before leaving his office. He took off from a dark corner of the alley behind The Raven and flew to Nicholas' loft, entering through the skylight.

He paced quietly across the room, noting the crates of blood that had been delivered. "LaCroix," Nick greeted him.

"Nicholas," he responded, crossing the large, open space and handing his son the sheaf of papers.

"What's this?" Nick asked curiously.

"A gift from Lucinda," he answered. "It's all of what is known about what your Natalie has become." 

"Lucinda? Isn't she who you gave Daniel to?" Nick asked, his mouth twisting into a grimace of disgust.

"Yes," he answered. "Lucinda always wanted a child--so I gave her my little… experiment."

Nick nodded shortly. "Nat is asleep upstairs," he said, responding to LaCroix's unspoken question. 

"She will be all right, Nicholas," LaCroix said, laying his hand on Nick's shoulder. "I have always thought that she would make a fine addition to our Family."

Nick shrugged LaCroix's hand off. "But *I* did this to her," he said harshly.

"Don't dwell in the past, Nicholas. What's done is done, and your Natalie will be fine." LaCroix reached out to stroke his son's shoulder gently. He was determined that the good doctor's condition would be good for all of them--he could finally have his son back. Not all of the centuries they had spent together had been as bad as recent years. Perhaps some of their old father/son relationship could be salvaged.

Nick closed his eyes wearily, submitting to the caress. "That doesn't change the fact that I *hurt* her," he said softly.

LaCroix sat down with a boneless grace. "You didn't mean to, mon fils," he said. "And now, she will be with you forever--I won't object." He smiled. "You can even keep your mortal 'job' if you wish."

"What's the price, LaCroix?" Nick asked.

"None," LaCroix grinned wolfishly, "for now. According to the papers, the good doctor should sleep for at least twenty-four hours now, and I wish for you to call me when she wakes. Nicholas, I *will* assist in her training. She *will* learn everything she needs to know, just as if she were brought fully across. Is that *clear*?"

Nick nodded slowly. LaCroix smiled once more before disappearing through the skylight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	3. Round the Twist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3:

Round the Twist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick leaned back against the smooth black leather of the couch and sighed tiredly before reaching over to hit the message button on the answering machine. He grimaced as Captain Reese's voice echoed through the loft.

"Nick, IA is looking for you to give a statement concerning your partner's death and Commissioner Vetter is out for blood. Call the precinct immediately."

Nick hit the delete button and began to listen to the next message.

"Knight, where are you? I sent some uniforms by your place and they found nothing but a large pool of blood. Is Natalie with you? Are both of you okay? Call the precinct as soon as you get this!"

Nick ran his hand through his hair and frowned. He was too tired to try and deal with his captain right now, but the longer he put it off, the more the situation would deteriorate. He reached for the phone and dialed the familiar number. "I need to speak with Captain Reese, please," he said.

The desk sergeant connected him quickly and Nick grimaced as his boss's voice came over the line. "Reese here."

"Cap'n, this is Knight."

"Nick? Where are you? What happened? Are you and Natalie okay?"

"We're fine, Captain. We're at the loft--Nat is staying with me right now… and neither of us remember much about what happened."

"I'll accept that for now, Knight, but I want both of you in my office tomorrow night to give me everything you remember--is that clear? IA still needs to talk to you about Tracey's death as well."

"Yes, Cap'n. We'll both be in tomorrow, I promise." Nick ran his hand through his hair and grimaced as he heard Natalie stirring upstairs. "Captain, I need to go check on Nat, so…"

"Come by tomorrow night, Nick." The call disconnected with a click and Nick placed it back in its cradle. He flew upstairs, into the bedroom, and landed next to the bed.

"Nat?" he murmured, stroking her face tenderly.

She slowly opened her beautiful, blue eyes and smiled hesitantly. "Nick?" she rasped. "I dreamed that you left me." She closed her eyes and swallowed. "You said that you hated me, and then I died."

"Never," Nick vowed, pulling her close to him. "I'll *never* leave you, Natalie Anne Lambert. I promised you forever, remember?" He looked at her, and made an impulsive decision before he brushed a kiss against her forehead. "Marry me?" he murmured.

Natalie looked up at him, confusion all over her face. "Isn't this a bit… sudden?" she asked tremulously.

Nick shook his head. "Nat, I *love* you. I know it's hard for me to say that, but I *was* raised in the thirteenth century, and I've had years of trying to hide my feelings from both you and LaCroix." His eyes twinkled. "Marry me for all eternity?"

Nat hesitated. "I'm not sure I can promise eternity," she said slowly. "People split up all the time--how can I guarantee that we'll last?"

"You can't, I can't," Nick said earnestly. "But when I come from, divorce didn't exist. Whatever happens, I promise to work it out. I want to spend the rest of my days, nights, whatever loving you. And someday, we'll find a cure--then we can have the family that I saw in your blood."

Nat reached up and stroked his cheek with a trembling hand. "Yes," she breathed, threading her hand through his blond hair.

Nick leaned down, held her close, and captured her lips with his. Slowly, he touched his tongue to her lips, requesting entrance. Natalie opened her mouth under the insistent pressure and began a through exploration of his mouth with her own tongue. The territory was only quasi-familiar, but the feelings evoked had been long denied. Nick stroked the moist, slick surface, tangling his tongue with hers. He gasped against her lips as she began to stroke his fang buds, causing them to descend. He brought his hands up to her hair and tangled them in her curls before breaking off the kiss.

"Nat," he gasped. "Not like this--we've waited for so long, I want our first time to be special." The gold receded from his eyes and his fangs retracted as he leaned his forehead against hers. "We have eternity, ma cherie. I want to wait until after we're married."

Natalie took a deep breath and nodded. "I can't say I'm exactly happy with it, but I *do* understand." She looked up at him through downswept eyelashes. "Stay with me tonight? We don't have to do anything--I just want you to hold me."

Nick brushed a soft kiss against her lips before bowing. "As milady wishes," he said, his eyes twinkling. He gave her his little-boy grin before untangling himself and walking over to the dresser to pull out a pair of pajamas. He smiled, then headed to the bathroom to change clothes.

Nick emerged a few minutes later, slid under the covers, and opened his arms to her. Natalie snuggled close and put her arms around him. She laid her head on his chest as he began to stroke her back soothingly. Nick hugged her tightly and kissed the crown of her head. "I love you," he whispered.

Nat dropped a kiss on his chest and began to run her hand up and down his arm. "I love you, too," she said. "I guess we'd better get the guest room ready," she said, giving him a look of pure desire. "These new senses of mine are going to take some getting used to, so I'd better stay with you until I learn to use them--and frankly, I don't think I could wait until our wedding night if I'm sleeping in the same bed with you." 

Nick laughed, and she could hear the rumbling deep in his chest. "We'll take care of it as soon as the sun goes down," he promised before yawning sleepily. Nat started to say something else, but looked up to see that Nick had fallen completely asleep in the time it had taken her to organize her thoughts. With a smile on her lips, she closed her eyes and drifted into the waiting arms of Morpheus. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Daniel threw his ball against the wall and smiled at the thud it made. In a short space of time, his plans were beginning to mesh. He would be free of Lucinda, one way or another. He caught the ball and then threw it again, catching it as it bounced. If only Lucinda or his hated sire had seen fit to create another miserable vampire child, he might have a playmate. Perhaps then he wouldn't be so unhappy. Somehow he doubted it. Misery shared was misery doubled, after all. He had considered walking into the sun after it had become apparent that he would always be a lost boy, but Lucinda had caught him when he'd tried it after his fortieth birthday. She always made sure to chain him to the wall before the sun came up, now. He had no escape.

He started from his reverie as Lucinda poked her head through the doorway and spoke. "Danny-baby," she began. "Stop that infernal racket! We have guests coming tomorrow and you need to clean your room to make it presentable. Your examinations by the Council will be later this week as well."

Daniel grimaced. "Yes, Lucinda," he said with a sigh. Reluctantly he began to clean up, going over his escape plan in his head.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"This is the Nightcrawler, gentle listeners. And tonight's topic is... Family. No matter what they do, we forgive them, for they will always come back. Everything comes down to Family and family responsibilities. In the end, my children, our families are all we have to share our world with. In the end, gentle listeners, your family will be all that is left to you.

"There is a sect of Christianity that believes that families can be together for all eternity. Think of it, my children of the night. Your family, with you forever, through eternities to come. So tonight, I ask, do you know where your families are? Are they safely tucked up for the night? Are you fulfilling your responsibilities to them?" LaCroix cut off his microphone and cued up the music. It was Peter and the Wolf tonight. True, it was a departure from his usual fare, but somehow his heart felt lighter than it had for quite some time. His Nicholas was returning to him, thanks to Natalie. 

His Janette was all but dead to him--he could feel her distantly, but he was no longer her sire. He had created more children than Janette and Nicholas, but only those two had the right to be called his children. His beautiful, beloved ones; lost, but now returning. Thanks to his new granddaughter, Natalie. 

Family was, after all, the only truly important tie to hold on to throughout the centuries. Ties that bind. They were bound by blood, and it would never fade. His children, his family. The fact that his golden child was returning to him was almost enough to make him smile; almost, but not quite. After all, he hadn't been a Roman General for nothing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Natalie opened her eyes slowly and smiled when she found herself wrapped in Nick's lukewarm embrace. Strangely enough, his touch didn't feel as cool as it once had. True, his body temperature was probably still around ten degrees below normal, but he felt different. She snuggled up against his inert form and threw her arm over his waist. Perhaps it was the undeniable fact that he was now hers. She kissed him gently on the chest and smiled. Finally, she could publicly stake her claim. 'Eat your heart out, girls, Nick Knight is *mine*.' She was startled out of her thoughts by Nick's hand stroking her curls.

"Good morning," he said as she looked up at him. Nick leaned down and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. 

"That's nice," she breathed as he broke off the kiss. 

"Mon coeur," he said as he began to pepper kisses across her face, "m'âme," he kissed her eyelids. "Ma vie," he strung kisses across her cheekbones, "ma lumière dans les ténèbres."***

Suddenly, a horrible thought occurred to her--what if they found a cure for him, but her cure was completely different? How could she go for an eternity without him? "Nick," she whispered, as she put her small hand on his chest to still his movements. "I want you to bring me fully across," she looked up at his, sorrow in her blue eyes. "I don't want to be stuck like this--neither one nor another--for eternity, and my cure could be completely different from yours."

Nick cupped her cheek in his hand. "I--thought about it, when I found out what happened," he admitted. "But it's not possible, not anymore."

"What do you mean?" she asked, horror beginning to dawn on her face. 

"The Council sent what little is known on your condition to LaCroix; and bringing you across is no longer possible." Nick rested his cheek on the top of her head. "It has been tried before, but it has always failed."

"Why?" she asked.

"We don't know, but the few that have become as you are have never survived long." Nick looked at her sorrowfully. "The vampires that made them what they were either abandoned them or were destroyed--and they died from starvation. Mon âme, j'ai besoin de vous autant que tu a besoin de moi."****

Silent tears began to run down Nat's cheeks. With everything that had happened, this new shock was overwhelming. Nick gathered her close to him and began to rock her gently back and forth. "Shhhh," he whispered. "This is *my* fault, mon coeur. I wish to God that I had been able to control myself, and hadn't condemned you to this--or that I had ignored everything and brought you across."

"No," she whispered. "Nick, *I* asked. This is just as much my fault as it is yours--and bringing me across would have destroyed something vital in you, and I couldn't stand that." Natalie reached up to stroke his cheek gently. "I love you, Nicholas de Brabant. I love you, and I need you." She clung to Nick, and his arms cradled her close to him.

"Reese called," Nick said finally. "He wants to see both of us; I told him that neither of us remember what happened. I said I found you in the loft, and that I was knocked out."

Nat wiped her face on her sleeve. "You do realize what this means?" she said with a slightly watery grin.

"No, what?" Nick looked puzzled.

"It means that *you* are going to have to wear a bandage." Natalie shot him a wicked grin. "As much as you like to pretend to be him, you're *not* Superman, you know."

Nick pretended to look injured. "Well, I *can* fly..."

Nat's eyes twinkled mischievously. "That's good, because I only marry men who fly. Now be a good eight hundred year old vampire and go get my medical bag so that I can fix you up."

Nick kissed her quickly, hopped out of bed, and saluted. "Yes, ma'am!" he said before leaving to go downstairs.

Natalie chuckled. Life with Nick would certainly be interesting. Even after six years, he could still surprise her, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Daniel sat in the middle of his bed in the nursery and pouted. He had been grounded for the night by Lucinda for some minor infraction. He flopped down on to the bed and sighed. At least his escape plan was coming together--and it would begin tonight. Soon, he would be free. Free from Lucinda, free from his sire, free to find his Princess. He was sure that she still loved him. After he found her, then he could free himself from his cursed existence. It was only a matter of time--and time was a thing he had in abundance.

Daniel pulled out a notebook and checked off something on his list. The distraction was in place, and it should all come off without a hitch. He was counting on everything being in turmoil to facilitate his escape. The added bonus to his plan was revenge--he would have it, and soon. It was his life; perhaps he could create some suitable companions. After all, it might be fun to have a gang of child vampires to hang with. They would at least alleviate his loneliness. He smiled as he contemplated his plan. Soon, he *would* be free.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Natalie hesitated before placing her fangs in Nick's neck and drinking. She felt his hands running up and down her back and heard his soothing voice in her ear as she drank the much-needed nourishment. She had been growing more comfortable with it, but she was still hesitant to bite her beloved. Feeling full, she withdrew her fangs and licked the last droplets of blood from his neck.

Nick drew her closer, so she rested against his chest. She rubbed his arm and sighed. "Still not comfortable with that?" he asked softly.

"No, not quite," she admitted. "The enhanced senses are easier to deal with--at least here at home. I'm not sure what would happen if I went back to work."

Nick started stroking her auburn curls and chuckled. "We'd probably have to find a dark corner at every crime scene."

"And we'd get called on PDA at every opportunity," she said with a wry grin. "I just don't like seeing you as... dinner," Nat said.

Nick kissed her lightly on the top of her head. "It'll get better," he promised. "Especially when the sharing goes both ways."

Nat looked up at him curiously. "Both ways?" she asked curiously.

Nick nodded. "Vampires need blood to... finish," he said, giving her the vampire equivalent of a blush. "The scrolls hinted that you do now, too."

"Oh," Nat thought about that for a minute. "What's it like?" she asked quietly.

"It's the most intimate act possible," Nick whispered huskily. "You and I are are mind-linked because I created you, heart-linked because of our love--and I believe we're soul-linked because you are my soulmate--your soul helped me find the remnants of my damaged one. M'âme, *you* are the one who has helped me begin to heal--I can't live without you. Blood-sharing will only strengthen our links, because it allows you to *know* another person totally, completely. And shared--" Nick shook his head, unable to continue.

Nat turned her face up, silently asking for a kiss. Nick brushed his lips against hers. "I love you," he murmured, allowing his eyes to change to gold. 

"I love you, too," she said, golden bubbles welling up in her blue eyes. Nick leaned down to steal another kiss, but the moment was lost when Natalie started to try and tickle him.

"It won't work, Nat," he said, his eyes returning to their normal hue and glinting in mischief. "I'm not ticklish. LaCroix, is--but I'm not."

"The General, ticklish?" Nat asked, half-laughing.

"Ohhh, yeah," Nick said with a grin. "I found out by accident, a *long* time ago." 

Nat regarded him with amusement. "Tell me later. I've been learning things about the vampire nervous system... about how every sensation is more intense because of our heightened senses." She smiled evilly. "My father was only ticklish under his arms--I'm sure that there's *one* place on you that's sensitive when I do... this." She ran her fingers down the inside of his arm and was surprised to get a snort of laughter.

Their conversation quickly degenerated into a tickle/pillow fight that left them gasping in laughter and the living are of the loft covered in feathers. It took quite a while to clean up, but it had left Natalie much more comfortable in her own skin than she had been since the change.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Nick peeked into Natalie's room and smiled. His beloved was asleep in his guestroom where she belonged at the moment. It had been an eventful two weeks, but things had started to settle down. He had sent to Belgium for his ancestral jewels for Nat, gotten them cleaned, and given her a very special piece for their engagement present; a diamond, ruby, and sapphire pendant that his father had gifted his mother with. Nat had promptly refused to ever take it off. To everyone's surprise, she had also refused to go back to the coroner's office--at least for the time being. The wedding was in two weeks, and he couldn't wait to finally be with her in every way possible. 

He floated above the floor and glided slowly into the room. Nick kissed Natalie on the cheek before consulting his watch to confirm what his internal clock told him. The sun had gone down, it was his night off, and he had some shopping that had to be done, preferably before Natalie woke up. The cupboards were almost bare, and Natalie needed mortal food in addition to his blood.

Nick scribbled a quick note and left it on the pillow beside her head before grabbing his keys and heading outside. He drove the caddy to the grocery store and picked up the items. Opening the trunk, he started to load the bags into the car when he felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck. His last conscious memory was that of dropping the bag before descending into darkness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Translations:

*** Mon coeur=My heart, 

M'âme=my soul, 

Ma vie=my life. 

Ma lumière dans les ténèbres=My light in the darkness.

**** Mon âme, j'ai besoin de vous autant que tu a besoin de moi. = My soul, I need you as much as you need me.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 


	4. Of Cabbages and Kings

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 4:

Of Cabbages 

And Kings

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LaCroix leaned back in his chair, took a sip of bloodwine, and savored the vintage. His son was coming back to him. It was a slow process, to be sure, but his Nicholas was returning to his side. A slow smile spread over his face. If he had known that the good doctor would have this effect on his son, he would have nudged both of them into their current situation years ago.

His smile grew wider as he contemplated the good doctor's beauty--and her obvious devotion to his son. Natalie had a fire that he had last seen eight centuries before when he had created his golden child. It would be interesting having her as part of his eternal family. LaCroix closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to the first time he had seen Nicholas--as a child lost in the woods at night. 

*~*~*~*~*Flashback--Brabant 1199~*~*~*~*

LaCroix dismounted from his horse and scanned the underbrush. He could hear a rapid mortal heartbeat nearby, and curiosity made him want to investigate. The faintness of the sound pointed to a child--and though the Code forbade the hunting of children, he was considering feeding on general principles. True, he wasn't really all that hungry, because he had fed very well the night before, but an easy meal was not to be passed up.

He forced his way through a nearby thicket and found a small, blond boy curled up just past it. The child's clothes were spattered with blood, and his face streaked with tearstains. The smell of fresh blood made his eyes briefly flash gold, but he controlled himself and focused on the little boy. Something about the child made his ancient heart contract painfully. "Are you lost, little one?" he rumbled.

The boy looked at him, and then shrank back. He shook his head wordlessly, his eyes wide with fear and shock.

"What's the matter, boy?" he asked, making a conscious effort to gentle his voice.

"M'brothers and m'sister," the boy finally whispered, wiping tears off his face. "The men *killed* 'em, and I didn't stop it," he looked up at LaCroix, anguish on his face. "I *ran* like a *baby*; like a *coward*."

LaCroix reached out and gathered the child into his arms. He allowed himself to savor the child's warmth, and ran his hand through the boy's tangled blond curls. "Shhh," he whispered softly, remembering the rare occasions when he had comforted his daughter before she had become evil. "If you had not run, mon petit ami*, you would not be here now--even the greatest general knows when retreat is necessary for survival."

The boy buried his face into LaCroix's velvet covered shoulder and began to shake. "Really?" he asked, his small voice muffled.

"Yes, mon petit ami." He caressed the child's hair again. "Now, child, where do you live? I'm sure that someone must be worried about you, so I'm going to take you home."

"The castle," the child whispered.

"And your name, boy?" he asked.

"Nicolas Geoffroi Pierre de Brabant," came the soft reply.

He hoisted the child into his arms. "Let's get you home, Nicolas," he said softly. LaCroix walked over to where his horse was tethered and untied it before mounting without losing his grip on the boy. He settled Nicholas against him and began to follow the path he assumed led out of the woods. Most likely it would come out near the village that was assuredly close to the castle. LaCroix looked down at the boy and was surprised to discover that the child had twisted his hand in his tunic, and was fast falling asleep.

"It will be okay, mon petit ami," he whispered, tightening his hold on the child and urging his mount to a trot.

*~*~*~*~End Flashback~*~*~*~*

Even after all the centuries and pain that lay between them, he still saw in his son the terrified child he had been. He had seen it while watching the disillusioned crusader and again when he had made the child into his son. Nicholas was his son, his baby, and he would not ever allow *anyone* to take him away. 

LaCroix knew some vampires who made converts just for their own pleasure, but it was something that he didn't want to understand. Even if Nicholas had not been his child, the thought was just so... *Greek*.** As much as he had urged his son to release his mortal bonds, he knew from his own experience that some attitudes did not change.

He drained his glass with a single gulp and picked up a book from the mahogany table beside him. LaCroix began to look through the book, trying to find a particular reference for the night's dialogue. He closed his eyes as pain flashed through his link with his son and it blanked out. "Mon fils," he whispered. "Quel ennui êtes-vous vous reçu dans maintenant?"***

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Natalie woke slowly, relishing the feel of silken sheets under her. She pushed back the down comforter and yawned. The last fitting for her wedding dress was today, and she wanted to get it over with; she wasn't particularly fond of getting pins stuck in various parts of her anatomy.

The dress was simple--or at least as simple as you could get when replicating a twelfth century wedding dress in white silk and silver embroidery instead of the original colors and fabrics. Nick had laughed when she informed him of her plan--to copy his mother's wedding dress only in what had now become the traditional color. He'd even shown her pictures of the relic, which now resided in a museum. 

Natalie stretched, slid out of bed, and padded towards the kitchen. She flipped on the coffee maker, which Nick must have gotten ready before he had left, and began to rummage around in the cupboards and the fridge for something to eat. She grimaced as a pain knifed through her stomach--she'd have to feed soon, or the pain would grow worse. She licked her lips at the thought of her fiancé's blood. Somehow, it tasted almost different every time. 

His smell didn't change, but sometimes, his blood tasted of sunlight, fresh cut grass, woods, and wild things with a tang of woodsmoke. Somehow, it was all intertwined in who he was--thirteenth century crusader, knight, nobleman's son, teacher, archaeologist, and cop. Deep down, she knew that his essential nature hadn't changed much; he was still protecting the innocent, defending the helpless, and seeking justice for those who could no longer find it for themselves. He was still a knight.

Natalie smiled, reached for a mug, and poured herself a cup of coffee. Just as she was raising the drink to her lips, a sharp pain stabbed the back of her head. She dropped the mug and fell to her knees, the edges of her vision turning gray, then black. The darkness closed in on her, and she blacked out, falling into a silent puddle among the shards of the broken coffee mug, and the cooling coffee on the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Reese stared at the note on his desk and frowned. It hadn't changed in the last hour that he had been staring at it, and he knew it wouldn't. Forensics had been over it, but it couldn't be connected to anyone. The paper was common, and the ink came from a printer--the same that could be found at any copy store. There were no prints on it, no DNA, nothing. And the damned words were the same every time he looked.

"We have Detective Knight. Have Lucien LaCroix and Natalie Lambert at the station in three hours for further instructions. You will be contacted, but if they are not present, he dies."

Reese sighed and fervently wished that the uniforms would be able to locate the LaCroix fellow and Dr. Lambert soon. He had given them the codes to Knight's loft--he'd been entrusted with them in case of emergency. LaCroix was known to work as the Nightcrawler, and he owned the Raven. They had only thirty minutes left, and he said a silent prayer that they would make it there. He couldn't lose his best detective to some street-scum kidnapper. 

He knew that Nat would be devastated; it only took looking at them together to know that. Briefly, he wished that Tracy was still around to see their relationship blossom--and she would have been the best at finding out who had overpowered Nick. Reese rubbed his hand over his face and grimaced. His woolgathering wasn't doing any good--Nick was still missing, and they had to comply with the kidnapper's demands lest the most decorated cop in the city not survive the experience.

He picked up the phone and started dialing, once more attempting to reach the loft where Nat had been staying. He cursed silently as the machine picked up again, then slammed the phone down in the cradle. Fervently, Reese began to do the only thing he could think of in this waiting game--pray that his friends would be safe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nat woke slowly and pulled herself up. She moaned and clutched her head. "Nick," she gasped. She turned as LaCroix flew through the skylight and landed soundlessly in front of her.

"Natalie, where is my son?" he asked, his eyes flashing golden.

"I don't know," she answered, confused. "He wasn't here when I woke up. I felt a sharp prick on the back of my neck, like a needle, and I think it was from Nick." Nat looked at him, worry in her eyes. "He's in trouble, isn't he?" she whispered.

"Yes," he growled dangerously. "Something has happened, and our link has been blocked--I can barely feel him."

Natalie's stomach began to churn, and a lump rose in her throat, choking her. "I can feel him," she whispered. "He's in pain—they've given him something that makes every nerve in his body burn as if he were being burnt by the sun."

LaCroix's eyes flashed red briefly before he closed them, making a visible effort to control himself. "They *will* *pay*," he snarled, clenching his fists.

Before she could formulate an answer, the door chimed. Nat walked over to the monitor and grimaced; two uniform cops were downstairs. She pushed the intercom button. "Yes?" she asked.

"Captain Reese sent us--you're needed down at the station immediately," one of them said.

Nat shut her eyes tightly. "I *quit*, remember? I don't work anywhere near there anymore."

"This isn't about work," the second cop said hurriedly. "It's about Detective Knight--we're to fetch you and Mr. Lucien LaCroix to the station."

"Go back," Natalie said, "and tell the Cap'n that we're on our way."

"*We*?" the first cop asked.

"Mr. LaCroix is here," she answered.

The uniforms thanked her and hurried off. Natalie turned around and ran to her bedroom. "The kidnapper must've sent a ransom note to Reese," she called as she quickly pulled on a sweat suit, put her hair into a messy ponytail, and shoved her feet into socks and sneakers.

LaCroix began to pace, trying to contain his fury. "They did this to annoy me," he grated. 

Natalie emerged from her room and grabbed her purse. "Not necessarily--Nick has put a lot of people in jail, and it could be one of them," she pointed out.

"None of them would know to ask for me," he growled.

Nat slung her purse over her shoulder, and began to walk over to him. A sharp pain knifed through her stomach, causing her to double over.

"When was the last time you fed, Natalie?" LaCroix asked.

"Day before yesterday," she gasped, trying to ride out the pain in her stomach.

LaCroix scowled, got a cup from the kitchen, tore into his wrist, and let the blood drizzle into the vessel. He applied pressure to the wound until it healed, then handed her the cup and stood, waiting for her to drink it. "Drink it, Natalie--Nicholas needs you to be here when we get him home."

Nat nodded, drank the contents of the cup quickly, and straightened as the pain receded. She put the cup down on the coffee table, and started to head towards the lift.

"No, my good doctor," LaCroix said. He hurried over and grabbed her. "I believe they said that time is of the essence--so we shall fly." He picked her up, flew out the skylight, and into the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Reese handed LaCroix the envelope addressed to him and leaned back in his chair to examine the man. He didn't know why the kidnapper had asked for him--after all, he was a radio personality and owner of a club, not someone whom Nick would be important to.

LaCroix read the note and Reese could see the muscles in the man's jaw clench. He closed his eyes and crushed the note in his hand.

"What does it say?" Reese asked.

LaCroix threw him the note and leaned back in his chair, his fists clenched hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

"Ten million American by tomorrow night?" Reese asked, surprised. "That's an awful lot to ask for a homicide detective, even the best on the force. And why does it call you 'General'?"

"Give me your phone, and it is done," LaCroix grated. "And as for my… military career… that is *classified*."

Reese frowned, but pushed the phone across the desk. LaCroix picked it up and dialed a number. "Felix, I need you to arrange to have some cash delivered to the 96th precinct--ten million American." He paused, frowning. "I don't *care* what it costs; send it by armored car--I need it in twelve hours." He slammed the phone down in the cradle and scowled. "The money will be here," he said.

Reese examined the man closely. "Why would you spend that kind of cash on Nick?" he asked curiously.

LaCroix smiled. "That, Captain, is none of your business." He turned, walked across the room, sat down, leaned his chair against the wall, and closed his eyes.

Reese looked at Natalie and raised his eyebrow. "Well? Do *you* know the connection, Natalie?"

Nat crossed the room and sat next to LaCroix. "If Nick hasn't told you, I have no right," she said softly.

The phone rang, so Reese hit the speakerphone button. "Reese, here," he said.

"Are Dr. Lambert and LaCroix there?" a voice asked.

Upon hearing the voice, Reese knew that it was passing through a synthesizer. He nodded to an officer right outside his office, who immediately began to try and trace the call. 

"Where is Nicholas?" LaCroix growled.

"Oh, Nicky-boy," the voice sang. "Would you like to talk to… Daddy?"

"Nick? Are you all right?" Nat said frantically.

"F-f-f-father? N-n-n-nat?" Nick's weakened voice came over the loudspeaker. "I don't feel too good. I--hurt," he whispered.

They could hear the sound of something hard smacking against skin. "Bad boy, Nicky," the voice mocked. "If you want to see your *girlfriend* or *daddy* again, you'll be good." The sound stopped, and the speaker resumed talking. "I have something *you* want. I'll call with instructions of where to take the money in a few hours." The dial tone sounded throughout the silent room, leaving the trio in silence.

Nat began to sob, and LaCroix crossed the room to try and offer comfort. Anger glittered in his cold blue eyes at Nicholas's treatment. He stroked Natalie's hair and glared impartially around the room. Reese could see the bottled up rage, and was thankful that he was not in the kidnapper's shoes at that moment. "So, you're Detective Knight's father?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," LaCroix hissed. "If I had known that *my son's* life would be in this much danger, I would have never allowed him to take this *job*. He has no need of it." He pulled Natalie into his arms and began to stroke her back. "We *will* get him back, mon cherie. Nobody interferes with *my* family and lives to tell the tale." 

Nat's tears slowly quieted. "Promise?" she asked softly.

LaCroix smiled wolfishly. "Yes."

She laid her head on his shoulder, and he hugged her gently. Reese watched, puzzled. He'd always thought that Knight had no family, and it looked as if the infamous Nightcrawler had even accepted the doctor as a daughter. He frowned as he remembered a murder investigation that Knight had been in charge of that involved the man. Nick would have to answer for that--after they got him home in one piece. "That explains why you're willing to lay out that much cash," he said laconically. 

LaCroix inclined his head toward the captain. "Yes," he answered. "Gold flecks appeared in his eyes and he leaned forward without removing his arm from around Natalie. "You *will* bring my son home, and you *will* make them pay," he rasped, his voice heavy with anger.

Reese suppressed a shiver--LaCroix was scarier than Knight when angered. "We'll do our best," he promised.

"You had better, Captain--something *will* be done, and my son *will* be returned to me." LaCroix turned toward Natalie, doing his best to make sure that she was all right. 

Reese shuddered and picked up the phone to get the lab to analyze the phone call--it was going to be a long night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

* "my little friend"

** In Ancient Rome, the practice of taking young boys to teach and as lovers was considered Greek and therefore foreign and not good. bg Ahhh… the things you learn in an art history class!

*** "My son, what trouble have you gotten yourself into now?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	5. Remember When

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5:

Remember When

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick shivered against the cold concrete behind him. He was currently chained spread-eagled against the hard surface, and there was a contraption in his mouth and on his head that kept him from speaking easily. He had tried to grasp the chains, but the crosses hanging from them prevented that. A blindfold covered his eyes, and he also had a linty piece of cloth wedged on top of the device and taped in. 

For what had seemed to be hours, and in spite of the crosses, Nick had strained against the restraints, but they didn't budge. The waiting alone was agony. He couldn't see, couldn't speak, could barely even breathe because of the titanium bands placed around his chest that held him to the wall. 

Cold seeped into him. His kind was naturally a little cooler than humans, but the bone-aching cold of his surroundings got harder and harder to bear. Everything hurt. After a few hours, he stopped moving as much as he possibly could--every movement sent waves of dizziness through him and made him want to throw up. 

The drugs that they had first given him had worn off, leaving even more queasiness. The bindings on his mouth, however, prevented that, so he was forced to keep swallowing his last bloody meal over and over again. At least he didn't feel like he has stepped directly into the sunlight anymore. He groaned softly around the bindings and wished that he were home. 

"Hello, Nicky-boy" It was the same, high, taunting voice that had come to him and let him talk to LaCroix. "We've already talked to *papa*," it sing-songed. "Now it's time to try something a bit different." 

A small, strong hand grabbed one of his arms and turned it out before injecting something into it. Nick gasped as fire scorched through his veins--the pain was worse than what had accompanied the first dose of Litovuterine-B. He gasped for air, but was unable to draw in enough through his bindings. The fiery pain was replaced with a blessed coldness that seemed to numb his entire body. He felt himself start to drift away… until the visions began. 

Over and over again, he saw the worst humanity had to offer--nightmare images that multiplied the horrors he had seen in his long life by a factor of five. One common thread held them together--Natalie was always among the victims. He saw the German death camps in the aftermath of WWII, with piles of ravaged bodies that all bore Natalie's face. He saw bloody civil war battles, the Haun's Creek Massacre, and many other scenes of senseless carnage. 

Next came things that might have been; Natalie as a victim of Roger Jameson, Natalie killed in a car wreck, Natalie being sucked dry by Spark, LaCroix ripping her head from her shoulders. Nick screamed through the fabric as the images progressed in a seemingly unending circle of death and despair. 

"You will *suffer*, Nicky-boy," the voice said. "Just as I have suffered--all because you didn't save me." The voice laughed; it was the sound of a person on the verge of losing sanity. Nick couldn't answer. Anguish followed pain in a sickening procession, until the lines of reality blurred, and all he knew were the horrific images in his mind. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

LaCroix glared balefully at the phone before turning his attention back to Natalie. He didn't like the circles under her eyes, nor the way she seemed to be using what little energy she had in worrying. It was almost as if his son's health reflected upon hers. If Natalie was any indication, Nicholas was in trouble. She had steadily grown paler until she looked bad even for a vampire, and the circles under her eyes were growing deeper. 

He tipped her face up to his. "Natalie" he hissed, his eyes beginning to grow gold. 

"Hmm?" she looked at him blearily. "Want to sleep." 

He glanced around quickly, glad that the Captain had been forced to leave by a call of nature. LaCroix grabbed a Styrofoam coffee cup and quickly tore into his wrist, squeezing his blood into the receptacle. "Drink, Natalie," he ordered. 

"Not thirsty," she said, her eyes beginning to close. 

He opened the link between them to its fullest and enforced his will. "*Drink*," he ordered. 

Natalie listlessly took the cup, and drank down the blood. She held it out to him. "More?" she asked weakly. 

LaCroix repeated the process, hoping that if what he suspected was true, then the blood he was feeding her would help Nicholas. He hadn't realized that their health was so interconnected, and he was surprised that the Chroniclers and Archivists hadn't realized that, too. He took the cup from Natalie's flaccid hand as her eyelids drifted shut. 

With a grimace of annoyance, LaCroix carefully guided her head into his lap and began to stroke her hair. She was family--and she was *his*. If something happened to her, it was becoming abundantly clear that something would happen to Nicholas. And if the kidnapper somehow managed to destroy both of them, the Council would make his eternity miserable for the next few centuries. 

In many ways, caring for his Nicholas' Natalie reminded him of his own son's infancy. Given that it was now nighttime hours, her behavior was unusual for a newborn vampire, but he decided that it was whatever his son's captors had given him. He could feel the pain through their link--it was more than enough to make him vow revenge on the perpetrator. *Nobody* was allowed to hurt his possessions. 

Vampires were not easy toys to break. His son was resilient, but he knew that eventually anyone could be broken. It didn't take 2000 years to learn that. Nicholas had learned how to adapt at an early age. LaCroix half-closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember. 

*~*~*~*~*Flashback--Brabant 1199*~*~*~*~* 

LaCroix rode up to the castle, dismounted, and threw his reins to a servant with one hand, while he held the boy close to him with the other. "See that my horse gets fed and watered," he ordered curtly. "I have business with the Duke." He settled the child more comfortably in his arms and strode towards the entrance. 

LaCroix pulled aside the nearest servant. "I require an audience with the Duke," he said gruffly. 

"I'm sorry, Milord, but the Duke was called to court two weeks agone.," the servant said, pulling his forelock. "His chatelaine is in residence, will she or his steward do?" 

"Be quick about it," LaCroix growled before looking down at Nicolas. The boy stirred and cuddled closer to him in his sleep--his face still buried in LaCroix's tunic. 

"It may be a while, Milord," the servant said, tugging his forelock again. "Three of the Duke's children have been found murdered, while the fourth is missing." 

LaCroix glared at the man, then nodded to the child in his arms. "What do you think this is about?" he inquired. 

The servant's eyes widened and he motioned for LaCroix to follow him. "Milord, if you'll just come with me, I'll fetch both of them." 

LaCroix grimaced, but did as he was bid. The sooner he could return the child, the sooner he could be on his way. He never thought that he'd come to the aid of a mortal, but there was something winning about the boy--even in his terrified state. If Janette were older, and the boy older, he might even have made Nicolas into his son. After all, what man did *not* long for a son, even if he had a beautiful daughter? 

The servant led him into a hall before attempting to take Nicolas from him. A single glare stopped the man, and he withdrew, murmuring that he would fetch the boy's mother. LaCroix sat down on a nearby bench and settled the sleeping boy in his lap. Nicolas stirred, then began to thrash, as if a nightmare had taken over. "Shhh," he whispered, stroking the child's hair. "You are safe, Nicolas." The child moved closer, and threw an arm around the vampire's neck. LaCroix stiffened for a moment before he allowed himself to savor the feeling of the small, warm, mortal body pressed willingly against him. It had been a long time since anyone had come so close without some form of coercion. 

He stroked the child's hair, hoping to keep him asleep. After all, it would be easier to give him back to his keepers if he did not awaken. LaCroix looked up from Nicolas as a woman entered. She hurried over to them, giving time for him to notice the tearstains on her face and her slightly rumpled cote. 

Frantically, she looked at the child in his arms. "Milord, have you found my son?" she asked. 

"Perhaps," he said, inclining his head. "Or perhaps I have found an orphan to raise as my own son." His face was unreadable as he pronounced the last sentence. The boy was hurting, and his keepers deserved some payback for allowing his sibs to be murdered in front of him. It had been a long time since he had played with his food for the sheer pleasure of playing with them--and this time, there was cause. 

The woman bit her lip. "My name is Elaine de Brabant--my son, Nicolas, has been missing, and his brothers and sister have been found murdered." 

He could see tears in her eyes as she admitted this fact. "And how could their keepers be so careless as to allow that?" he inquired blandly. 

Her face hardened. "I do not know, milord, but as soon as Milord Duke comes back from court, whoever did this will *pay*." Her _expression softened as she looked at the child in his arms. "Have you found my Nicolas?" she asked again, staring at the little one in his arms. "His face is hidden from me." 

LaCroix shook the boy's shoulder gently. "Nicolas," he called. 

Nicolas's eyes opened slowly as he woke, and he started to look around. "Maman*?" he said, noticing the woman. 

She picked him up from LaCroix's lap and covered his face with kisses. "Mon bel Nicolas**," she whispered. "Thank God." 

LaCroix stood as if to leave and the boy wiggled free of his mother's grasp. He ran over to the vampire and wrapped himself around his leg. "Don't leave, milord," the child begged. 

LaCroix placed his hand on Nicolas's head. "I must leave soon, child--it is a long way to Paris." 

"You must at least stay with us overnight," Lady Elaine said. "The hour grows late, and the roads are not safe. We must also be allowed to properly thank you for bringing Nicolas home." 

"Please?" Nicolas looked up at him, his blue eyes pleading. "The men who killed my sibs can't hurt me if you're here." 

LaCroix sighed and ruffled the child's hair. "I will stay," he said finally. "I will leave tomorrow at dusk." 

*~*~*~*~End Flashback~*~*~*~* 

LaCroix opened his eyes to find Reese staring at him curiously. "What is it, *Captain*?" 

"There's no record of your military career," Reese said bluntly. 

"If there was, then it wouldn't be *classified*, now would it?" LaCroix asked, amused. "What are you doing to find my son, *Captain*?" 

"We have patrols out looking, but so far they've come up empty--the best we can do is wait for the next call." Reese answered. 

"Since I must leave this in civilian hands, *find* him," LaCroix hissed before turning his attention back towards Natalie and ignoring Nicholas's annoying boss. His son must have obtained a greater control over his temper than he, himself had--he would have drained the irritating man a long time ago. Then again, he'd met Nicholas's old partner, Skanke. If the irritating little man had been an associate of his, the man might not have survived an entire night. He could hear his son's boss saying something in the background, but he refused to listen. He examined the good doctor and frowned as he noticed how bad her breathing was. Nicholas had better be found soon, or the Council would follow through with their promise. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Daniel skipped gleefully around the room and laughed. His new toy was proving to be more fun than he had imagined. It had taken almost all of his resources to obtain his plaything, and he was overjoyed at the result. Hungry, he grabbed the bottle from the small table and drank down its contents before dropping to the floor to play with his electric train set. 

Lucinda was due in a few minutes to give him his lessons, and she didn't know about his new possession yet. He'd give it back--but only when he was ready. With a joyous laugh, he crashed the train into an obstacle, then moved on to find his fire truck. He ran it around the floor for a few minutes, happily running over small figurines of people and animals. Daniel jumped up as she entered the room. "Hello, Lucinda," he said quietly. 

"Danny-boy, it's time for your painting lesson," she reminded him gently. "Come, you wanted to further your education by staying here for a few months, did you not?" 

He nodded wordlessly and followed her as she turned to leave. It wouldn't hurt to be obedient right now, because he didn't want her to find out about his latest acquisition. Not yet, anyway. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Translations: 

* Maman. Mother. 

** Mon bel Nicolas. My beautiful Nicholas. 


	6. Things Fall Apart

* * *

Chapter 6:

Things Fall Apart

* * *

Nicholas curled up as much as his bindings would permit and whimpered. The mental images were getting worse, and he didn't know how much more he could stand. He had seen plenty of atrocities against humanity in his eight hundred years, and they were all he could see. It wasn't long before images of himself began to replace the victims, until visions of his death at the hands of thousands of people over and over again paraded before his eyes.

"Ohhhh, Nicky-boy!" the high pitched voice of his captor said. "How do you like my latest invention? Is it good? I've got another present for you."

Nick shuddered violently as a cold needle slid into his arm. It didn't take long to feel the drug's effects. Pain wracked his body, and flowed over every nerve ending. He struggled against his restraints, and desperately tried to break free. He could feel the handcuffs digging in, and blood oozing from the resultant cuts.

Nick heard a rattling of keys, then the bands around his chest tightened, making it harder to breathe than it had been before. "Poor Nicholas," the voice of his tormenter said with a high-pitched giggle. "Getting hungry, my pet? Never fear, your new master will feed you."

Nick recoiled as he felt a large needle punch through his skin and into his stomach. "This lovely mixture is special, Nicky-baby. It's rat and chimpanzee blood cut with a variant of curare." His captor started to laugh again. "Eventually, it should paralyze you, and poison your blood for your itty-bitty-widdle-girlfriend."

Nick tried to snarl around his gag, but a steel-toed boot thrust into his ribs between the titanium bands stopped that. "I'll release you soon, you selfish, arrogant, SOB, release you to go back to your putrescent daddy and your milk-sop fiancee. Your tainted blood will kill her!" The voice started laughing hysterically after that last pronouncement, then faded away with the sound of footsteps.

Nick moaned softly around his gag. Soon, the footsteps came back, and cold hands began to caress his face. The hands removed his gag, then smacked him hard across the face. "Nicky, Nicky, Nicky. You've been a bad little boy, and it's time to eat your supper!" Before Nick could speak, a forkful of food was shoved in his mouth. "Swallow, Nicky--or I'll send someone out to take care of Natalie!" Nick swallowed, and tried not to gag as the noxious concoction was placed in his mouth. It was worse than the worst of Nat's protein shakes, and his already-tender stomach began to roil uneasily.

He heard the scraping of a utensil on a plate. "You're going to eat your supper, Nicky-boy!" the voice crowed. "That's a good baby." A few more minutes passed of being fed from a spoon before his captor stopped. "Now, Nicky, you have to drink your milk like a good little boy, or you don't get any dessert!" A glass was forced to his lips, and he started gagging, choking, and coughing as the liquid poured into his mouth and throat.

Nick gasped for air when the last of the liquid was gone, the bands around his chest making it even harder to get the air he required. "Now Nicky, you didn't finish your supper," the voice said in a sugary tone. He tried to refuse, to move his head, but his efforts were in vain. His tormenter inserted a tube in his mouth, and began to push a nasty, mushy substance through it. As soon as that stopped, a dirty, smelly rag was shoved back into his mouth and duct tape put on to secure it.

"Good baby, Nicky. We'll be calling Papa again soon." He heard footsteps retreating as he fought the inevitable nausea from having foreign, non-blood substances in his stomach. Nick tried to curl around his aching stomach, knowing only the waves of pain and nausea from both the drugs and the forced feeding as his stomach tried to handle mortal food as it had not for centuries. Even the food he'd consumed during the Litovuterine-B incident hadn't caused the excruciating pain he now suffered.

Natalie. He thought of her with longing, how she could make him feel better with just a word or a touch. He even thought longingly of LaCroix, the only father he'd ever really known. At least what LaCroix did to him when they weren't getting along was predictiable. At least LaCroix let him fight back. He could also remember happier times, especially when he was a new vampire, when his sire had showered him with the love and affection that his mortal father had neglected to give him. He wanted out. He wanted home. He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted Natalie and... LaCroix.

* * *

LaCroix frowned as he brushed a curl away from Natalie's face. She was pale, even for a vampire, and the shadows under her eyes had grown deeper. The physical connection between his Nicolas and Natalie was worrisome, especially with the torture he was enduring. He could feel the ghost pains of his son's torment through their link. Everything in him demanded that he rescue his child, but he was hampered by the fact that the civil authorities were involved, and Nicholas did not even know where he was.

LaCroix looked up as Reese walked back in the room. "Any word from the kidnapper? Any idea where my son is being held?"

Reese rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'm afraid not, Mr. LaCroix. So far, we don't have any leads."

LaCroix clenched his jaw as he felt his fangs begin to descend. He couldn't afford to lose his temper and reveal his kind's existence. "Look at Natalie, Captain," he said, his last words leaving his mouth in a hiss. "Science cannot explain everything--she and Nicholas are connected, and as he weakens, so does she."

Reese gave him a skeptical look. "Connected? Nat just looks a little sick; she's probably been coming down with something. I can call a doctor--"

LaCroix leaned back in his chair. "No need," he said, with a barely concealed sneer. "A... doctor cannot help my new daughter. Only Nicholas' presence can do that. If any man ever had a soul, my son does, and it has somehow become bound up with Natalie's. This wait only serves to put both of them in danger, Captain. The longer you delay, the weaker he becomes, and Natalie's condition follows."

Reese raised his eyebrow skeptically. "Probably just has the flu," he said dismissively.

LaCroix growled softly under his breath and willed himself to keep his temper. Joe Reese was too prominent to just disappear; he would be missed. Sternly, he reminded himself that draining the idiot mortal wasn't a good idea; police had been examining the Raven too closely as it was. Before he could say anything, the phone rang again.

Reese answered it and hit the speaker phone. "Midnight tomorrow," the disguised voice said. "Make the drop off in the waste paper can near the lake at Golden Gate Park," the voice said.

"I want to speak to my son." LaCroix said with a growl.

"Mon pere?" Nicolas's weak voice said. "Je me sens malade, Papa." (Father? I feel sick, Papa.)

LaCroix answered him, his voice low and soothing. "Je serai la bientot, Nicolas," he promised. (I'll be there soon, Nicholas.)

"S'il tu plait, mon pere ne me laissent pas ici." (Please, Father don't leave me here.)

The sound of skin slapping skin came over the phone. "That's enough," the voice sounded harsh.

"Je viens, Nicolas, je promets." LaCroix switched back to English. "You will pay for that," he promised harshly. (I'm coming, Nicholas, I promise.)

Mocking laughter followed his statement. "We shall see, General—we shall see!" The call ended with a click.

Natalie stirred and opened her eyes. If anything, she was paler than before and her face had taken on a greenish cast. "LaCroix?" she murmured.

LaCroix pulled her close to him and smoothed a wayward curl back from her face. "I'm here," he said simply. He wanted to leave, follow his link to his son, and rip out the throat of whoever had done this, but he couldn't. He was helpless. LaCroix hated being helpless. By the Council's decree, if Natalie died, so would Nicholas. And if Nicolas died, Natalie would as well. He could easily lose both of them within the next few days. It could not be tolerated; it would not be tolerated!

Nicholas had been his son for eight hundred years; he would not give him up now! LaCroix took a deep breath, exerting his formidable self-control to calm himself. "Have you found where he is?" He asked, striving to remain civil with the mortal.

Reese shook his head. "It was too fast; I'm sorry, Mr. LaCroix." He paused for a few minutes. "Can you tell me why Nick never told us that you're his father? His records give no indication of it."

LaCroix allowed a small, amused smile to cross his face. "My son and I have not seen… eye to eye about things for a long time," he said finally.

"All right," Reese said gruffly. "Nick still has to answer for investigating that headless body in your beer fridge without telling us of your… connection."

LaCroix flashed him an irritated glance. "Don't you think you ought to rescue him first, Captain?" he asked acidly. Nat stirred, so he gathered her close to him, and stroked her hair when she burrowed into his side.

"Nick?" Nat murmured. Her eyes shot open. "LaCroix, they're hurting him. They're making him sick!"

"How do you—" Reese began.

"Leave us." LaCroix ordered, cutting him off with a glare. Reese shivered slightly after meeting the ancient vampire's eyes and left as quickly as he could.

"Ma fille, we will rescue Nicholas," he promised. LaCroix listened for a moment, then held his wrist out to her. "Drink, Natalie. You must drink for Nicholas and stay strong for him." He watched as she hesitated for a moment, then sank her small, sharp fangs into his wrist and drank of him. Nicholas would be returned. There was no other alternative—he would not lose either his son or his new daughter to anyone or anything!

Nat took one last swallow and he gently tugged his wrist free. "Are you sure, LaCroix?" she asked, her amber-flecked blue eyes pleading for reassurance.

"We will get him back, ma petite," he promised. LaCroix kissed her on the forehead. "And whoever is responsible will pay," he said with a soft growl. He pushed into his link with the doctor to find that his ancient blood had dulled the pain and made her sleepy. "Sleep now," he said huskily.

Natalie nodded and her eyes started to drift shut. Through her, he could feel his son's distress even more clearly—it had been a long time since he had shared blood with Nicholas to strengthen their bond. LaCroix closed his eyes and clenched his jaw to keep his fangs from descending. Nicholas's kidnappers would pay for their audacity and he would get his son back. He never lost, after all.

* * *

Daniel skipped around his new toy, chanting children's songs in a sing-song voice. He stopped and looked at it, then decided that it wasn't colorful enough. He hurried to his room and returned with markers and paints and got to work. With vampiric speed, he added color to it until the toy was covered with a plethora of colors. "Beautiful!" he said admiringly.

Daniel's head snapped up as he heard Lucinda call his name. He tousled his toy's hair, gathered his supplies, and hurried back to his room before she could arrive. "I'm in my room, Lucinda," he called. Daniel stuffed his supplies into a drawer, then sat down on the floor with his model train. It was essential that he look innocent when she came in.

He had a feeling that she wouldn't approve of his most recent acquisition, and it could get him in trouble if he wasn't careful. Daniel plastered his most winning smile on his face as Lucinda walked in. "Do we get to go on a field trip?" he asked hopefully.

Lucinda shook her head. "Not tonight, Danny-baby. I've got to go out on Council business." She patted him on the shoulder. "You stay close to home and there's plenty of uncut blood in the fridge."

"Can I have some bloodwine?" he asked, pushing his boundaries.

"Sorry, kiddo." Lucinda ruffled his hair. "You're too young; it'd make you sick." With that as a parting remark, she left, leaving Daniel to his own devices.

Daniel glowered and let his eyes flash amber. He would always be too young. "It's all your fault, Nicky," he hissed. He stood up and made his way back to the passage. The only thing that would make him feel better would be to play with his toy. Who knew? He might accidentally break it before it was time to give it back to its rightful owner…

* * *


End file.
